


Waiting

by quasiouster (QuasiOuster)



Category: The Good Doctor (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Sequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-22 11:07:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30037746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuasiOuster/pseuds/quasiouster
Summary: Claire and Neil are having a friendly drink at his favorite bar when Neil's past comes crashing back into the picture. Sequel to Photo Finish (you don't need to read that first, although it may be helpful to set the mood).
Relationships: Claire Browne & Neil Melendez, Claire Browne/Neil Melendez
Comments: 27
Kudos: 31





	Waiting

**Author's Note:**

> My poor computer was down and out for a while, so I'm glad to be back at my old (new!) keyboard! Typing on my phone was driving me crazy. 
> 
> This story came from a few ideas I've been bouncing around that decided to get together and be friends. Mostly, they came up as I was writing Guardians and didn't want to stop the momentum of finishing that. And I've been wanting to do a sequel to Photo Finish for a while. 
> 
> Excuse any stray typos from my rushed edit. I hope you enjoy!

Neil laughs at hearing the end of Claire's story. He hadn't been expecting that punchline. The server swings by to drop off their food, and Neil thanks her by name.

They’re sitting in a dim corner of a bar they frequent from time to time. It’s one he’s been going to since he was a resident. By now, everyone knows him, which means he gets great service. Although he sometimes brings another person with him, it’s mostly a place he returns to alone, content to watch sports on the TV or spend a few hours chatting with the bartender and relaxing at the end of a tiresome day.

Claire’s just finished telling him about the bad advice their patient had given her during his post-surgery checkup. They both feel great about finding the humor in the situation after they’d come so close to losing him on the table. He thought they could both use some space to unwind after that and suggested a celebratory drink. They’d even snagged his favorite spot where you can have a semi-quiet and private conversation in the noisy room while still being able to see the TV and most of the bar.

Two months from the end of her residency, and things with them are good. He’s pretty thankful for it.

When they first started hanging out, he'd mostly wanted to support her as she grappled with her overwhelming grief and self-destruction. He'd been mourning his own losses after a heartbreaking split with Audrey who he then had to see and work with every day. Neither had seen their early conversations turning into the relationship they have now, though maybe they should have. Especially in the past year, he often wonders what might happen if he’s just open and plain with Claire about what she's come to mean to him. 

The situation had become dangerous at times early on. His feelings for Claire had come on quickly, surprising him in some ways. His regard for her spilled over into their work and even caused moments of him exposing to Claire hints of his attraction, not that he'd meant for that to happen. Audrey had noticed, questioned whether he was searching for some sort of reckless rebound after their relationship, which had irritated him at the time. She warned him to get his feelings under control or risk both their careers. It felt obscene to hear Audrey diminish what he felt for Claire to that.

All the right feelings, but not the right time.

He wouldn't dream of doing anything to compromise Claire's career. So, he’d stayed quiet about his inner desires. He'd even pushed Claire towards dating her friend Dash, thinking it would help both of them. He could sense her confusion about it for a while, even sensed that she’d shared that feeling of being on the precipice of something between then. Yet she relented as well and they fell back into a comfortable friendship.

The one positive is that if they're going to be denied the option of a romance, they wouldn't be stopped from openly enjoying their friendship. The others simply got used to it after being satisfied that he wouldn’t favor Claire professionally.

Except as time goes on, things have started to feel less like a steady friendship and more like biding their time until he’s no longer her boss. And the both of them are holding back their impulses.

They've cut out more intimate activities together like dinners or movies or anything that would look like a date to prying eyes. Yet, neither seems interested in actually dating other people. And of course, they still run together regularly, even doing their first 10K a couple months ago. She’d gotten hurt when some jerk pushed her down to get ahead, and he’d spent part of the afternoon doting on her and loving it – right before they’d fallen asleep cuddled next to each other. It’d been another series of close calls that day, moments of attraction that threatened to spill over into reality before one of them would pull back. They've been having more and more of those in the last few months.

This close to the end of her residency, and he’s finally letting himself think about the “what if.” Waiting for it to transition to the “when will.”

So here they are, spending another comfortable night together, laughing and relaxing. Maybe preparing themselves a little for a time when they can call this something more official.

He’s grinning as she trades him a slice of her pizza for a slice of his. He’s about to ask if she wants another beer when he freezes as he spots a familiar face come through the front door.

“What is it?” Claire asks, noticing his frown. She turns to follow his line of sight but can’t tell what he’s responding to.

Jessica Preston, his ex. And what looks like a boyfriend at her side.

Neil shakes himself from the shock of seeing her. It’s not that he’s annoyed she’s here with someone. They’re not on bad terms after she decided to transfer to a sister hospital to help restructure their legal department. They’ve even had drinks a few times when she’s back at St. Bonaventure for business with the board of directors. It’s more that they both consider this _his_ place – she’d joked about that plenty of times while they were together. Why would she show up here?

He gestures toward the front of the bar where Jessica and her companion are taking off their coats and pulling out chairs at a table by the window. Now recognizing the person he’s looking at, she turns back to him, a questioning expression on her face.

“Are you okay?” She seems hesitant to ask, probably not wanting to assume what kind of emotions he’s feeling about Jessica’s presence.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just seems weird for her to come here of all places.”

Claire scrutinizes him for a few moments, making sure he’s really fine as she finishes her beer. “Maybe she was in the neighborhood," she offers, willing to give the benefit of the doubt. "At least she’s way over there and you can decide whether you want to say hello.”

"True." Neil shrugs, swallowing a bit of his pizza. Claire's right. He can just ignore her presence. “I’m not exactly in the mood for small talk. I think our patient’s mom did enough of that to—”

He can sense Claire watching him, curious about why he’d abruptly stopped talking. Neil's eyes are fixed again to the front of the bar where Jessica is handing her coat to her date. Claire diverts her attention, too, to figure out what's rattled him.

"Oh, shit!" she says under her breath, also taken by surprise.

While seeing Jessica around town isn’t exactly unusual, seeing her standing across the room very obviously pregnant – about six months if he’s to guess – is pretty damn shocking.

It’s like time has stopped around him. He can’t hear anything but the blood rushing in his ears. He vaguely registers the beat of the music and Claire calling his name. When he feels her hand gripping his wrist, he blinks and then remembers to breathe.

Jessica is pregnant, his brain keeps flashing. As in, she's having a baby, starting a family. With someone else.

So, when she said she didn’t want to have kids, what she really meant was she didn’t see herself having kids with him.

The pressure at his wrist is more insistent now. Claire.

“You want to get out of here?” she asks, clearly worried for him. She runs her thumb across his pulse point and it does much to soothe him. He doesn’t want her to stop.

Neil pulls his eyes from Jessica now sitting and looking through a menu. The man with her is signaling their server and ordering drinks for them. He thought she hated that kind of thing but a lot has changed obviously.

“We can go,” Claire says again.

Neil looks down at his cooling pizza. Takes one breath and then another. He grabs his beer and indulges in a very long pull, nearly draining it. Claire’s hand is still at his wrist and he hasn’t pulled away, enjoying the gentle weight of her presence next to him. 

“No, I want to stay. Just maybe…”

He doesn’t need to finish the sentence. Claire stands up, finally letting go of his wrist, and moves to the other side of him. Neil scoots over to the chair she’s vacated. They trade plates and drinks. The new position keeps the front of the room safely obstructed so he doesn’t dwell on the couple at the front of the bar.

And he knows he’s being petty, that he’ll likely be lousy company for the rest of the night. But this is _his_ place and Jessica knows that. He doesn’t want to cede the ground.

“We don’t have to talk about it, but we can if you want.” Claire takes another bite of her pizza, patient and trying to return their dinner to some sense of normalcy.

Neil doesn’t know what to say. Or to think. He knows he shouldn’t jump to conclusions, but how can he not take something like this personally? His mind races with questions. Does Glassman know? Was he keeping it from Neil, pitying him for still holding out hope for the family that Jessica now gets to have? Was Jessica's dad relieved to have someone other than him permanently tied to his blueblood family and their old money? Was she ever going to tell him to his face or just let the gossip mill do the job for her? He thought she respected him enough to not blindside him with something this sensitive. Staring again at his pizza, he realizes that he’s lost his appetite.

And right on time, George, the owner and backup bartender for the night, comes over with a glass of scotch. Macallan if his nose isn’t deceiving him.

“On the house,” he says, patting Neil on the shoulder. George may not understand the intimate details of the situation, but he's known Neil a long time and can guess that his ex showing up pregnant wouldn't be the highlight of his evening. Claire says something to him, probably ordering another drink too. George nods and walks off.

Neil takes a sip of his drink and laughs. “I guess I should expect that George knows me pretty well by now.”

Claire smiles. “I bet.” She looks like she wants to say more, probably to chastise him about eating something before drinking more alcohol. But she stays quiet.

They sit in silence for a while, not tense but not exactly comfortable. Claire finishes most of her pizza while he picks at his. He’s blankly staring at the basketball game on the screen rather than risking conversation. At least he's resisting the urge to to look behind him to see if Jessica and her date are still there. Claire doesn't seem to be paying them any attention either.

He doesn’t even notice when he finishes his drink. Claire asks if he wants another. He knows he shouldn’t - he's already had two beers before the scotch - but he nods anyway. Instead of getting up, she looks over his shoulder and gives a thumbs up, communicating with someone at the bar. A few moments later, their server, Jay, sets another drink in front of him and one in front of Claire. He wastes no time taking another sip. 

Although there are a lot of questions swimming in his mind still, he’s hesitant to give them voice, knowing that the only one who can answer them is the last person he wants to – or should – talk to now.

After another stretch of companionable silence, Claire fixes her gaze on him. “You know, you’re free to unload on me. God knows I’ve done it to you enough times over the years,” Claire says.

That makes him smile. He’d offered himself as a sounding board early in their friendship and she’d ceased being shy about it long ago. It never felt like a burden. Quite the opposite actually. It seemed like a privilege that she trusted him with her private thoughts and vulnerabilities.

“I don’t even know what to say,” he admits.

“I don’t want to assume, but I’m sure it hurts to see that.”

“No, you’re right. It’s finally starting to sink in how much. And also…”

She waits patiently for him to get his thoughts together, not an easy feat as all the alcohol he’s had sets in. “Also, it’s not that I’m feeling regret. I don’t want her back or anything.”

“Maybe it’s that ghost of a missed opportunity,” Claire offers.

He nods. “Yeah. And that tiniest bit of rejection that I wasn’t enough. I know it’s silly,” he says, laughing awkwardly.

Claire grips his wrist again briefly. He immediately misses her touch as she retreats. “I get that. But you know it’s not true. Not being on the same page at the same time doesn’t mean that anyone is lesser than.”

Neil shakes his head. “That seems so long ago. I think about myself then. How eager I was. How I thought I’d figured everything out.” He laughs at himself again. “I had no idea what I was in for.”

She smiles, understanding that too. “What? You couldn’t have predicted falling in love with your nemesis or narrowly missing getting injured in an earthquake or nursing your resident’s nervous breakdown with bowling, beer, and a well-used fitbit?”

They both break out in peals of laughter at her gross oversimplification. It feels good. Not just the release but to be sitting here with her in all its possibilities.

And just like that his emotions shift from loss to that warmth that he feels when he thinks of a future with this incredible woman at his side. Jessica and her choices, his past with her? Those things don’t matter anymore. Claire is what matters. Claire and what he can choose with her now.

“That’s more like it, Doc,” Jay says, dropping off a to-go box for the pizza he’s barely touched. “I knew Dr. Claire could pull some smiles out of you.”

Neil shakes his head as his chuckles die down. He finally feels the buzz of the alcohol he’s consumed without much food to balance it out.

When he notices Claire grinning at him, also realizing that he’s not exactly sober at the moment, he falls into staring at her. The spark of amusement in her eyes, the way her smile draws his gaze to the beauty mark at her cheek, the sway of curls floating from the ponytail at the top of her head, everything about her enchants him.

“What?” she asks, taking a sip from the half-full glass of golden liquid she's holding.

The words are at the tip of his loose tongue dying to spill over. That she’s beautiful. That he’s glad she’s here with him. That he’s in love with her and wants to be with her. She’s looking back at him right now as if she already knows those things.

“You,” she says, smiling, “are very drunk.”

He smiles back, taking another sip of his drink. “And you’re not?”

“I switched to gingerale a long time ago. I’m not surprised you didn’t notice.” He laughs. “It’s about time you get to be the messy, emotional one in this relationship, and I get to be the adult in the room.” Her expression turns serious. “I mean it. You do have a pretty good reason to be traumatized.”

“It’s fine,” he responds on impulse. She looks as if she’s not buying it. “I will be fine,” he amends. “Really. It’s a shock, but our lives went their separate ways and who knows what’s happened to her since we broke up. Just like with us, too.”

Claire nods, either at the sentiment or his use of the word “us” to describe his present circumstances.

He looks around, noticing for the first time the crowd surrounding them. It’s a little later than they usually stay, especially on a Friday night. “You wanna get out of here?” he now asks her. He picks up his glass to finish the last of his scotch.

She holds her hand out, tilting her head in expectation. He hesitates, scrutinizes her with his glassy, tipsy eyes. Then he digs into his pocket and hands over his keys. She smiles smugly, clearly very satisfied that she’ll now get the chance to drive his car as she’s been begging to do since their friendship started.

“Don’t get too comfortable. These are very extenuating circumstances. Once in a lifetime.” Despite his best efforts, his words are slow and, well, drunkenly.

Shaking her head, she pockets the keys before he can change his mind. “Sure, whatever you say,” obviously not willing to agree to his terms of engagement. She waves Jay over who already has their check.

Neil grabs it before Claire can get her hands on it. He's also attempting to pull out his wallet at the same time and failing. His coordination isn’t exactly stellar right now. Jay rolls her eyes, and smirks at Claire as she walks away. Finally freeing his wallet from his pocket, he lays down some cash. The bill only lists their first drinks, so he leaves a big tip, though he knows Jay and George will make fun of him for it later.

He and Claire stand to put on their coats, Claire teasing him about whether he needs any help given his shaky coordination. Thankfully, he slides it over his shoulders on the first try.

After grabbing her purse, Claire leads the way through the now overly crowded room. Despite the heaviness of the night, he’s content to follow her wherever she leads, happy to be going home with her. It isn’t until he spots Jessica through the crowd, probably at the end of her meal and waiting for the check, that he flashes back to what had blown up their night in the first place.

But he doesn’t want any drama. He just wants to get away from here and in the sole company of who he now considers his closest friend.

As they make their way to the front door, he sees the moment that Jessica recognizes Claire. It’s not like they were friends, so he wouldn’t expect her to consider saying hello.

And then her eyes sweep to him.

For a moment, there’s recognition. Acknowledgement. Hurt. He sees her mouth open in shock, her hand coming to rest against her stomach.

After that, he doesn’t know. Too late he hears her voice calling his name, but he doesn’t stop. He walks out the door, leaving his past behind; looks ahead at the bobbing ponytail of the woman in front of him as he follows his future.

* * *

Once they leave the bar, Neil joins Claire’s side. They walk a decent pace to where he’s parked around the corner, not eager to give Jessica time to come after them. If she really had concerns about what he thought, she’d have reached out to him herself instead of waiting for happenstance or gossip to reach him.

As they turn the corner, Claire takes his arm. He realizes he’s been weaving a little, bumping into her a few times. She tries to make it seem casual, that he’s really holding her up, but they both know. It’s the kind of thing that he loves about her.

Finally, they reach his car and he immediately goes to the driver’s side out of habit.

She laughs. “Having second thoughts? Well, too bad.” She grabs his arms from behind and steers him to the other side of the car, opening the now unlocked door to nudge him inside. Then she climbs in on the driver’s side and adjusts his seat and mirrors to her small frame.

Once they get on the road, he leans back and looks out the window at the passing streets. He thought it would bother him more to turn over the reigns of his precious car to someone else. But he trusts her. And he knows he’s really distracted.

He turns on the radio, flicking the station from the percussive steadiness of his favorite hip hop channel to the Friday night “quiet storm” station now playing Roberta Flack. Claire hums softly beside him, and he closes his eyes to enjoy her lovely voice and the haze of his thoughts. Now that the adrenaline has worn off, he realizes how drunk he really is.

Before long, they’ve pulled into his driveway. He triggers the garage door from his phone and Claire steers neatly into the space there. While he’s stumbling out of the car, he notices that she’s adjusted the seat back into its original spot, though she doesn’t bother tinkering with the mirrors. She hands his keys back to him and he opens the door to lead her inside.

The next few minutes are a blur. He throws his keys in their usual spot in the kitchen, spilling them to the floor on the first try. Claire is already digging into his cabinets for a glass and filling it with water. She hands it to him and he drinks it down, returning it to her to refill. Then Claire orders him upstairs to his bedroom as she putters downstairs. Though she doesn't come to his place too often, she still knows her way around. Thinking about her so comfortable navigating his home is soothing to him right now.

He walks straight to the bathroom to relieve himself and clumsily dig through the medicine cabinet for some aspirin. Then he heads to his closet to change out of his suit and into a t-shirt and sleep pants. When he reemerges, he hears Claire coming up the stairs and down the hallway to see how he’s doing.

How _is_ he doing? It’s hard to say. He’s confused. Sad. Definitely drunk.

Then he sees Claire come through the doorway. And he feels … in love. Like he’s never experienced before. It feels different and special. Just like her. He can’t articulate much past that.

“Why are you grinning like that?” she asks. “You’re going to be so hungover in the morning and then we’ll see who’s laughing.” She places a full water bottle on his bedside table next to the book he's been reading before bed.

“I’ll be okay, I think. It’s not my first rodeo at the bar.” He thinks about that for a moment. "Bar rodeo? Rodeo bar? Is that what it's called?"

Claire is trying not to laugh too hard at him, so he knows he's said something silly. He takes another deep drink from the glass he'd refilled in the bathroom and sets it next to the water bottle. Claire moves around him to turn down the bed and guide him in it. He allows himself to be tucked in.

“It’s been a while since I’ve gotten service this good. Certainly not in my own house,” he teases.

“Don’t get used to it,” she says as she pulls the sheet over him.

Before she can step away, he grabs her hand and pulls her back to him. “Stay with me for a while?”

His voice sounds tentative, vulnerable even to his own ears. He knows it’s dangerous territory given his attraction to her, especially when he’s not exactly sober. But the need for her presence is stronger than his pride or his strict boundaries.

She smiles down at him and nods, letting go of his hand to circle the bed and crawl in next to him. There’s a decent amount of space between them as she lays on her side facing him, her head resting on her folded hands against the pillow. Neil reaches over and turns off the lamp at his bedside, plunging them into darkness except for the moonlight spilling through the large window across the room.

They lay in silence for a while, breathing softly into the stillness.

“Thanks for the company tonight. And for taking care of me," he says to her. "I know I wasn’t the best company.”

“You were fine company," she assures him. "And I’m just returning the favor." He turns in the bed to mirror her position, on his side and facing her too. As his eyes adjust to the darkness, he can just make out the line of her features as her attention focuses on him.

They’re silent again, his eyes still open but feeling drowsy. His thoughts become slippery, his tongue loose as he feels the impulse to confess to her.

“I want to ask her what changed. Did I do something to turn her off having kids? Or maybe her situation is an accident. Or surprise, whatever you want to call it. I want to ask her even though nothing she says will change how strange I feel about all of it.”

A flash of memory hits him: Jessica similarly lying next to him as they had a tense conversation about having kids. Later, he considered that to be the beginning of the end for them, a red flag he should have treated more seriously. Or maybe not, if tonight's revelation counts for anything. 

Claire hums her understanding, but leaves space for him to talk more if he wants.

"It makes me wonder who else knows and just isn't telling me. Or if she was ever going to tell me herself. Maybe she thinks she doesn't owe me an explanation." He sighs. "Maybe she doesn't."

"Neil, don't tie yourself in knots over this. You can decide if you want to talk about it with her or not. But right now, there's no knowing what's happened to change things for her or if it has anything to do with you. Like you said, you're both in very different places since you've moved on."

He knows Claire's right. She usually is about this kind of thing. He wants to wallow and feel sorry for himself, but it's not healthy. He's glad she's here and willing to help him stay afloat.

“You know,” he continues, “I thought I’d walled all of this up, my disappointment about this dream of mine coming to such a lackluster end. I’d built this armor to hide my fear that I’d never get what I want. I'd locked away how defeated I felt. With Audrey, I hadn’t exactly let my guard down, but I’d let myself hope again. And then it ended just as abruptly. Tonight, brought it all back. I don’t think Jessica was lying when she broke up with me. But things could have turned out so differently between us.”

Claire waits a beat before responding. “Do you wish it had? Seeing her like that?”

Neil sighs. “I wanted that with her so badly. And I’m just so tired of waiting." He lets the emotions of that sink in for a moment before focusing back on her as she listens intently. "I still want kids, a family. But seeing Jessica tonight, it’s reminded me of all the things I wouldn’t have if it had gone differently with us. All the things I think I like better.”

He looks to where he thinks her eyes are, knowing instinctively that he’s meeting her gaze in the dim room. After a moment, he notices the curve of her smile in the shadows of her presence next to him.

“I wish you’d talk about this more with me. I know things were hard after you and Lim broke up.” She sighs. “I sometimes think you spent too much energy helping me fix myself as a distraction. And maybe you suffered because I wasn't as good a friend to you.”

The bed jostles as he shakes his head. “I stepped in to help because I wanted to be there for you. But,” he hesitates, finding the right words. “It helped me too. Don't ever doubt that, Claire.”

“I’m glad,” she whispers, the breeze of her words brushing against his cheek even from the distance between them. “You don’t have to be afraid to talk to me about this kind of stuff. I promise I won’t make too much fun of your sweet, romantic heart.”

They both laugh at that knowing it’s not true. Teasing him about his romantic side is practically a pastime for her. But they both recognize that he purposefully plays it up for that reason. As her giggles die down, he hears her take in a deep breath.

“What is it,” he asks, sensing a shift in her mood. He can feel her moving around next to him, getting more comfortable.

“Nothing, really. This just reminds me of a conversation I had with Jared once. We were lying in bed like this and he was teasing me about opening up to him. It drove him crazy that I was so hesitant to talk about my past.”

He remembers that time for her. Even though she worried about being an over-sharer, as Alex had said of her once, she actually keeps a lot about her life to herself. Before they'd become friends, there were many things about her he only learned because he or someone else had pried the information from her. 

Her words make him chuckle though. “You telling me about what you and your ex-boyfriend did in bed might be the worst pillow talk I’ve ever experienced,” he jokes.

“Oh, is that what we’re doing right now? Having pillow talk?” She doesn’t sound surprised or offended, only amused.

“Well, we’re both lying here on pillows and talking. So why not?”

She reaches over to push poke him gently in the shoulder. “You and your technicalities.”

Instead of letting her retreat, he takes her hand and rests their joined palms between them, carefully twining his fingers in hers. He feels her grip his hand securely in return, unwilling to let go, too. He watches the light flicker across her figure as the clouds interrupt the moonlight filtering in his window. They both enjoy the quiet of the night uninterrupted by the outside world.

“There’s this song my mom used to sing in her set, not often but occasionally," she murmurs next to him. "Early Fiona Apple – she loved Fiona Apple. That whole mid-90’s era of female singer-songwriters was my mom’s happy place.”

Neil closes his eyes, lulled by Claire’s voice and the privilege of hearing her share what sounds like a pleasant memory of her mother. Instead of continuing her explanation, his eyes float back open when he hears her soft voice singing a slow melody to him.

_“And all my armor falling down in a pile at my feet."_

_"And my winter giving way to warm, as I'm singing him to sleep.”_

He smiles, loving the sentiment of her words and the gentleness of her voice in saying them. “I remember that song,” he says. “I haven’t heard it in years.”

She laughs. “Really? I wouldn’t think a tough guy like you would have been listening to this kind of thing in college.”

“Well, I’m not your average tough guy,” he jokes, stroking his thumb against the soft skin of her hand in his. Even in the dark he can sense her skepticism. “Okay, okay, my roommate liked to study to that album. He probably got it from Columbia House and had to wear it out. What am I talking about? What do you know about Columbia House,” he rambles.

Her giggles fill the room again. “I know what Columbia House is. I’m not that much younger than you.”

He pauses at her words. “But younger enough.”

The quiet stretches between them, a tension now hanging in the air. She squeezes his hand to get his attention. “Does that bother you?”

Although his mind had cleared somewhat, he’s still aware of his loose tongue from all the scotch he’s consumed over the evening. He wants to be honest with her, though.

“I thought it would,” he says, an unassuming admission. “Maybe it should. But no, it doesn’t bother me.”

He can’t quite make out her reaction to hearing that. He very much wants to say the right things to her so she’ll understand that she’s not a fascination or a means to an end. She’s the person who’s saved him just as surely as she says he’s done for her.

“Good,” she finally responds. He watches her eyelashes flutter against her cheek as she blinks slowly, now probably drowsy herself. “Maybe I'm tired of waiting, too,” she says, her voice suddenly shy, vulnerable.

His breathing stops for a moment as he processes her words, the ones he’d uttered only a few moments before in a very different context. He thinks of their unspoken vow of keeping their boundaries up until she’s done with her residency and he’s no longer her boss. Yet he's been longing for this for weeks now, months. Every time he stares a little too long at her, when he falls to sleep to thoughts of her. Each time she touches him innocently and he yearns for more.

Slipping his hand from hers, he reaches for face, his hand resting against her to stroke the apple of her cheek. Whether it’s his lowered inhibitions or the months of wanting to be this close to her, he can’t muster even one excuse for why he shouldn’t grasp this beautiful thing for himself. He feels her lean into his touch and his heart speeds up at her approval.

When he moves to close the distance between them, she meets him halfway to touch her lips to his.

He kisses her slowly, savoring her soft lips tasting his, catching each of her breaths as if it connects her very essence to him in turn. When his tongue eventually tangles with hers, he swallows her gasp that encapsulates the wonder of what they’re both experiencing in each other.

As their motions intensify, he wonders if she can still taste the scotch on his tongue. She’s never developed an appreciation for his favorite liquor no matter how much he tries to goad her into it. He’s hoping she doesn’t think this is some drunken overture rather than the surrender to what he’s denied himself so fiercely for the sake of not complicating their lives.

But now with her in his arms, he can’t imagine going back to being just friends. If they were ever that at all rather than lovers in waiting.

He pulls back, breathless, still holding her cheek. She’s gripping his wrist, her thumb again stroking that spot at his pulse point that he’s grown to crave.

“Just so you know,” he says, catching his breath. “I’m going to do that again in the morning when I’m sober and a lot of times after that too.” He presses his lips to hers, briefly. “And I'm going to dance with you again.” He kisses her once more. “And maybe even hold your hand in public.” This time when his mouth touches hers, it meets her smiling lips, amused at his enthusiasm. He caresses the crown of her head, enjoying the softness of her curls against his palm. "I can't wait until we're able to do that," he says, his thoughts a little scattered as his intoxication for her joins in the mix of his emotions.

“We'll see,” Claire says, resting her forehead to his. "When you're not as sappy and full of scotch," she giggles.

"I'm not that drunk," he teases. "Just a little bit. Or maybe I'm-"

Claire puts a finger to his lips to stop him. "Don't you dare sing Beyonce right now."

He kisses her finger against his lips. "You're no fun. You're just mad because I'm still sober enough to romance you."

"Or did I romance _you_?" She taps his forehead, nudging him to think about it.

Neil tries to focus his thoughts on the last few minutes of their conversation. "Well, damn!" he says, smiling realizing she's kind of right.

"Don't worry, you can turn the tables on me tomorrow when you're a sober, consenting adult again."

Neil hums in approval, feeling pleasantly buzzed by the alcohol still in his system and his desire for her. "I can't wait."

"Why don't you hydrate a little more before you get too comfortable, just in case." Eager to please her, he temporarily leaves her side to comply. "I could get used to you being this obedient for a change."

"I better get the most out of these last two months of being your boss then," he replies, his lips pressing against her forehead.

They lay there in each other’s orbit, not interested in taking things any further. He brushes his nose against her and receives the beautiful sounds of her soft laughter in response.

After a while, he tries and fails to suppress a yawn. “Will you stay? And maybe finish singing me that song. If memory serves, it’s a nice one.”

“It is,” she says, a tacit agreement to remain with him.

He scoots closer to her, now resting his hand at her hip and pulling her into his arms. He smiles hearing her sweet voice singing into the darkness around them, broken only by the partially clouded moon.

_“Pale September, I wore the time like a dress that year_

_The autumn days swung soft around me, like cotton on my skin_

_But as the embers of the summer lost their breath and disappeared_

_My heart went cold and only hollow rhythms resounded from within_

_But then he rose, brilliant as the moon in full_

_And sank in the burrows of my keep_

_And all my armor falling down in a pile at my feet_

_And my winter giving way to warm, as I'm singing him to sleep”_

He feels his mind drifting with each of her breaths vibrating against his body. He’s at peace with the weight of her pressing into him and the soft lilt of her words washing against his senses.

He thinks how the love growing so strongly in his heart for her is this beautiful thing sprung from some of their darkest times. They’ve both suffered difficult losses, swallowed sorrows that whispered falsehoods of what they do or don't deserve. They’d buried parts of themselves out of self-preservation and to simply get through the day.

It seems all the more satisfying that they'd helped each other let go of that pain so they can be here like this. His truest love story already in progress.

As he falls into a numbing slumber, he doesn’t see darkness. Instead, his vision is all brightness that's filled with laughter and family just within reach. His future with Claire. They don't have to wait anymore. It's been here all along.

_The End_

**Author's Note:**

> Credit to the song Pale September by Fiona Apple. It actually helped me get through edits on a chapter for Guardians where it inspired me in a different way. The gift that keeps on giving.


End file.
